


migration

by rasmirato



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Future Fic, Getting Together, Growing Up, M/M, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 19:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30009708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rasmirato/pseuds/rasmirato
Summary: Muscle memory kicks in and they find their feet taking them to the Karasuno gym, following a path molded into their memory, an innate pull guiding them. The warm lights of the gym were on and they could hear distant sounds of sneakers squeaking and palms striking balls. They continue to walk past their old campus, and settle on a hill overlooking the gymnasium.- Contains manga-only info! -
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Kudos: 8





	migration

They really must look ridiculous: two 29-year old professional athletes, squishing their toned bodies onto the seats of swings meant for children, staring at their fidgety feet, struggling to make conversation. They were only here because other than their old high school volleyball court and club room, this park was the only space in their lives they ever really had in common. It felt like a relic, a sacred place of their past; it was a miracle this swing set was still standing after 14 years, although their muscled bodies may finally put it to rest after tonight. This was where they had practiced for that initial three-on-three match against Tsukishima and Yamaguchi back in their first year of high school, determined to win after being kicked out of the volleyball gym for knocking the principle’s toupee off his head. Hinata smirks at the memory, his forearms stinging fondly as he remembered relentlessly practicing receives with Kageyama under the streetlights long into the night. To think ‘so much has changed since then _’_ felt like such an incredible understatement that a lump formed in Hinata’s throat. Or, rather, the lump that had been in his throat ever since he started his walk over here to meet up with Kageyama thickened. To begin unraveling why sitting on this swing beside him made his stomach knot and words stick to his tongue when hurling insults on the volleyball court to this very same man came as easily as breathing wasn’t something he had anticipated unpacking tonight, if ever.

It’s not like this was some long-awaited reunion, a coming together of two old friends; they technically never lost touch. Their friendship was never the same as it was during their high school years after Hinata moved to Brazil following graduation, but they never lost what tied them together in the first place: their rivalry. At least that’s what they called it, even after their signature quick attack won Japan Olympic gold and Kageyama had Hinata pressed against the headboard of his hotel room bed that night. Hinata’s body temperature skyrockets remembering the events following their final game in Tokyo 2020 (and the four or five nights after); the high of their win projecting them into a dream-like haze that temporarily shattered all unspoken boundaries built over the years. The only other time that boundary had been crossed was after far too many drinks at their high school graduation party. Hinata can barely remember that night, it was so ridiculously long ago at this point. The sequence of events are ill-defined in his memory, but the feeling of Kageyama’s rough lips on his and shaky hands on his body weren’t exactly something he was capable of forgetting. They never spoke about it of course, Hinata was set to leave for Brazil within the week, what good would bringing it to reality do for them?

Texting was their main means of communication over the years, and although infrequent, kept each other updated with major life updates. Their unspoken promise of telling each other when their bodies started to deteriorate, the bane of career athletes’ existence, finally came into fruition last week. After returning from the physiotherapist and promptly punching his pillow so many times he was sure his fucked up shoulder would come apart, he shot Kageyama a short text: Shoulder. Not sure if returning this season. Home in a week. Within 30 seconds of sending the text his phone lit up: Jumpers knee. Flew into Sendai last night. Sry no update.

Hinata’s jaw was on the floor; the likelihood of both of them succumbing to injuries and returning to their hometown during the same season was astronomically small. Probably as slim as the likelihood of a prodigal setter whose tosses could only be received by an athletic anomaly both starting at the same high school in the same year, Hinata muses. The separate trajectories they took in their professional careers was only made possible by the fact they found each other in high school; this prompts Hinata to think of things like destiny and fate, and he feels small. 

His eyes settle on Kageyama as the sun sets behind them. His hair was long, much longer than the last time he saw him and even longer than in high school. He could probably tie it back like Asahi used to, his fingers fiddle with the elastic band he keeps around his wrist in case a teammate or opponent ever forgets theirs. He imagines standing up, moving behind Kageyama and slowly, reverently, running his hands through his hair, pulling through any knots before tying it up for him. Having feelings is so fucking gross. He is a grown-ass man and the moment he is taken off a volleyball court for an extended period of time he is turned into a pile of mush. He runs a hand along his face and decides the best way to deal with the melancholic feeling in his gut is to poke fun at his old rival.

“Do Italian men like long hair or something?” Kageyama looks up, puzzled. “Wha- why would I care what Italian men like” he rolls his eyes and scoffs, slowly swinging back and forth.

Hinata tries again. “Say something to me in Italian, even a dumbass like you must have picked up on some words by now” Kageyama is still staring at his feet, but he smirks. “Idiota”.

“That sounds just like the English word! Italian isn’t creative at all. Bet it was easier to learn than Portuguese!” Hinata throws back. Kageyama just smiles sadly.

“Kageyama.” Hinata shifts his tone. “Mm?”

“You’re being weird. Is it about your kn-” he starts, but Kageyama cuts him off.

“It’s strange being back here, isn’t it.” he says abruptly, coming to a stop and finally turning his head to meet Hinata’s gaze. Something shines behind Kageyama’s eyes, but Hinata can’t put his finger on it.

He chuckles softly. “Yeah… but it’s not forever, right? Not sure about your reasoning, but I just came back here as an opportunity to visit while my shoulder heals. I’m not done yet.” He says firmly, hoping his statement will push Kageyama to make the same one back at him. Always competing. Kageyama holds his gaze for a moment, his mouth a hard line.

“I think I am.” He replies with the same permanence of Hinata’s statement.

Hinata’s mouth opens, then closes. Kageyama isn’t trying to compete with him. Does this mean he’s won? No, that’s not it, he tries recalling their tally but stops himself; now isn’t the time.

“What will you do?” He prods softly.

Kageyama breaks their eye contact and looks up at the sky, painted with streaks of red and gold. “I don’t know…” he trails off. “Should I know?” he says weakly.

Hinata isn’t sure how to respond. This is so unlike the Kageyama he knew, he doesn’t know how worried he should be. Then, it hits him like a train: what is life after volleyball? Maybe that’s what Kageyama is in the process of figuring out right now.

He steadies himself and stands, clapping a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s walk”.

Muscle memory kicks in and they find their feet taking them to the Karasuno gym, following a path molded into their memory, an innate pull guiding them. The warm lights of the gym were on and they could hear distant sounds of sneakers squeaking and palms striking balls. They continue to walk past their old campus, and settle on a hill overlooking the gymnasium.

Hinata lies back on the grass. “You could coach, you know”.

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure that’s a likely next step.” Kageyama scoffs.

“No, I mean you would be good at it. Like actually good”. Hinata says coolly, as if it were the most obvious statement in the world. 

Kageyama is silent, slowly pulling out blades of grass and letting them slip through his slender fingers. Hinata sits up abruptly and blurts: “Or you could come to Brazil with me”. He realizes this is what he wanted to say that day Kageyama dropped him off at the airport 12 years ago, and slaps his hand over his mouth as if that would push the words better left unsaid back in.

Kageyama takes a second to process, but when he opens his mouth Hinata interrupts, words coming out rapidly, clumsily. “Oh wow, forget I said that, that would be so weird. What would we even do? Could we even live together? I bet you’d hate beach volleyball…”  
  
“Alright”. Kageyama says, looking away.

“A-alright?” Hinata flusters. Kageyama still isn’t looking at him.

“What kind of moron offers that sort of thing then immediately takes it back”.

Hinata swears he senses a shadow of real hurt in his tone. “I didn’t want to offend you” he mumbles.

“Offend me?”

“Yeah, reduce the Great Kageyama to a house husband while I go off and play in tournaments”.

“Ah, so now you’re offering me your hand in marriage too? Gonna take that back as well?” Kageyama teases and Hinata shrieks, falling forward and burying his face in the grass. “I hate you” he groans, voice muffled by the ground. He feels weight shift beside him; when he rolls on his side he realized Kageyama has laid down, head a few inches from his. Hinata’s eye flick to his lips, then back to his eyes.

Kageyama breaks the silence. “The beach doesn’t sound so bad”.

“You’d hate the sand man, it gets _everywhere._ ” Hinata warns, “I mean it. Everywhere.”

Kageyama smiles softly. “You say the most embarrassing shit.”

They fall silent again and Hinata feels gravity pulling himself towards the man across from him. Was that the right word? Gravity couldn’t be to blame for them both ending up in back in Miyagi from the respective countries that had become their homes over the past few years.

Their lips were warm and accepting as they connected, much different than the previous times they came together: harsh and rough, trying to get what they needed out of each other before having to address why they needed to in the first place. Hinata then realized what word he was searching for: migration. Like birds, with the innate ability to travel pre-determined paths, theirs had finally led back to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading (:


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